


Little Girl Lost.

by doctorkaitlyn



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Gen, Prompt Fic, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-18
Updated: 2012-10-18
Packaged: 2017-11-16 13:46:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/540095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorkaitlyn/pseuds/doctorkaitlyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While the others have been looking for her, Sophia has been struggling to stay alive.  Written for a word prompt posted on TWD kinkmeme but does not feature any kinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Girl Lost.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written and posted on ff.net in November of 2011. This was written for a prompt on the kinkmeme that required me to use Sophia and the following words: lost, doll, stagger and pebbles. Hopefully you lovely readers enjoy it, despite the fact it's a little outdated now. xo.

****

1\. Lost

It wasn't the first time she'd been lost. When she was seven years old, she'd wandered away from her parents at the state fair, too distracted by a passing clown to realize that she was no longer holding her mama's hand. All she remembered was that the clown was colorful, its costume bright streaks of red and yellow and blue and every other color of the rainbow. She loved colors; they reminded her of the flowers her dad always brought home for her mom whenever she got hurt.

Her mama told her afterwards that she'd been screaming her name but Sophia hadn't heard her at all. She'd been, for all intents and purposes, completely transfixed. Then her dad had come out of nowhere and scooped her up over one shoulder, yelling at her loud enough to make everyone around them stare at her family with pitying eyes.

They hadn't gone to the fair again after that.

But this... this was different than the fair. At the fair, if she'd gotten too separated from her parents, there would have been somewhere she could have gone, someone she could have sat with until her parents came to find her. There would have been nice people who would have been willing to sit with and talk to, people that would pretend to find her interesting.

But in the forest, everything looked the exact same. Every tree she passed looked like one she'd seen five minutes ago and she didn't know how anyone was capable of making sense of it. She had no idea which way the highway was or where she was going and she was ashamed that, even though she was twelve years old, tears were falling down her face like she was a baby.

She knew she should have listened to Mr. Grimes. She should have just stayed but she'd just been so darn scared, sitting there like a lame dog or something. She'd figured that it wouldn't be that hard to figure out which direction to go back to the highway; all she had to do was retrace her steps. After all, it couldn't be that hard.

And now, she was completely and utterly lost, her legs scratched and streaked with grime and she knew that if she ever found her way out of the forest and back to her mama, she was going to hug her and never let go.

If.

****

2\. Doll.

That first night had been the worst. The sky had gradually gotten darker and darker until she was plunged into a world of pure blackness, unable to see even two feet in front of her. The night had filled with sounds, of things squawking and rustling all around her. She'd kept stumbling, her hands held out in front of her, feeling blindly around. Eventually, she had tripped and fallen, landing sprawled out in the dirt. She was tired, so tired and she figured that she wasn't going to find a better spot to sleep so she'd curled up into a ball, bringing her knees to her chest, cradling her head on her doll. If she buried her nose in just the right spot on its worn body, she could still smell her mama's perfume, something gentle and flowery.

God, she missed her mama. Before she shut her eyes, she quickly prayed, staring up at the canopy of trees above her.

_Please Lord, don't let me die. Mama needs me._

The days dragged by and she kept waiting, waiting for one of the men to pop out of the bushes yelling her name. But no matter what happened, no matter if she stayed in the same spot all day or chose to walk, there was nothing. Her stomach was in a perpetual state of growling, not at all sated by the few berries and mushrooms she found. At night, the only way she could sleep was if she pressed her face into her doll and inhaled, breathing deeply of her mama's scent. But it was fading gradually and she knew that soon, the smell would disappear completely, leaving her with nothing.

Before that point could come, she lost the doll. She'd been drinking out of a stream she'd come across, filling her stomach with the cold water and when she went to grab it, it was gone. She had splashed down the stream for half an hour, tears running down her face but it was gone, taken away by the swift current.

That night, with her empty stomach echoing through the forest air, she only went to sleep when exhaustion overtook her.

****

3\. Stagger.

So many days had passed. She'd lost count of them, lost count of how many times the sun had gone down and come back up. She was so hungry and so tired. All she wanted to do was to sleep, to curl up on the forest floor and wait for someone to come find her, if they were still looking. They had to still be looking for her; she knew that her mama wouldn't give up. Her mama wouldn't let Mr. Grimes hear the end of it if they'd simply given up on her.

She had to believe they were still out there. If not, what was the point?

She'd twisted her ankle sometime. She wasn't sure when but she was aware that she wasn't so much walking as she was staggering, dragging one foot behind the other, wincing from the constant pain. She couldn't help but feel like a Walker, slowly going through the forest, barely able to stay on her own two feet. Her stomach was deflated, constantly aching dully, practically throbbing. When she took a sip of water from the creek, she'd brought it right back up, sending her collapsing to the ground in a sobbing heap.

She just wanted to sleep.

****

4\. Pebbles.

Her legs had stopped working. It wasn't a gradual process; they had given out in one swift moment, sending her collapsing to the ground in a tangle of long limbs she hadn't yet grown into. She was thankful that she'd merely been walking along the shores of the creek and not in it; she didn't want to drown. She tried to get back up but her body wouldn't let her. She was simply too weak, too exhausted, too tired.

She just needed to sleep a bit. Even though the sun was high in the sky and sweat was beading on her forehead, she needed to sleep for a few hours. Then she'd be able to continue walking back up the stream. She adjusted her head on the bank, the cold water gently skimming over her bare toes. She couldn't remember where her shoes had gone.

There were pebbles beneath her head, smooth and almost silky. She was glad that they weren't spiky or hard or sandy; they made a wonderful pillow, so much better than her arms or the ground had been. She welcomed them, turning her head so that her face was pressed flush against them. They were cold against her warm face, stopping the sweat in its tracks.

There were footsteps coming her direction, crunching over twigs and leaves and she tried to force her leaden eyelids open. They had merely fluttered, staying closed, her eyelashes heavy, weighing them down. But really, it was okay, she decided with a smile, pressing her face further into the coolness of the pebbles as the steps got closer and closer.

No matter who it was, she was sure that she'd be glad to see them.


End file.
